Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Adam Soles is my hero

St. Patrick's Day is a couple of weeks away. But don't tell that to everyone in New Jersey, where celebrations start about two weeks early. Last year I'd gone to Hoboken for the parade, followed by excessive alcohol consumption, and it seemed only right to repeat it again this year. So, on Saturday I had plans to go with friends from work to enjoy the festivities, complete with my green "I have a drinking problem" t-shirt and plenty of green beads.

From the start, it just wasn't meant to be. I woke up and the dog was acting weird. She kept trying to throw-up, but nothing was happening. She was crying and there was nothing I could do. The only thing that seemed to make it better was if I could get her to lay down and relax. Which she would really only do if I laid down too. So I texted my friends that I would try to catch up with them later and decided I'd be missing the train.

A couple hours later she seemed to be okay. I wasn't really feeling it, but I'd said I would go, so it seemed like the right thing to do. I looked at the train schedule and it was going to take me nearly two hours to get to Hoboken, but I could drive it in an hour. This meant I couldn't do much drinking, but I wasn't really feeling it anyway. So I made my way to Hoboken. I decided I'd stop into Chipotle for a quick lunch. The line was out of control. But I decided to be zen and let the day play out, so I waited the 30 minutes and continued my journey. I made it up to Hoboken and I was telling myself I was feeling better about the day. Until I tried to park.

Several times I found spots, but they required a resident parking permit. I drove around for an hour, waiting for the parade to end so people would leave. When it ended, I managed to get around to the other side of the parade route and locate a parking garage. It was $25, but at that point I would have paid $100. I just wanted a beer. Though I'd only be having a couple since I'd be driving home. I was a little flustered pulling into the parking garage and on the phone with my friend to find out where they were. So I grabbed my bag, fleece, and wallet while chatting on the phone. I made it about a block before I thought it best to organize myself. It was at this point I realized I didn't have my wallet. Huh. I swore I'd grabbed it. Turn around, back to the car. Of course the parking ticket was in the wallet, so they had a bit of trouble locating the car they had just parked. Scoured the car. No wallet. Shit. Look through the car again. Definately no wallet. Back to the street. Nothing. Son of a bitch. Just be zen. Just be zen.

Right. So now I'm in Hoboken on St. Patrick's Day. With no money. Or ATM card. Or credit card. Or driver's license. Which means I'm not going to be able to get into any bar. This. is. fucking. awesome. But what can I do at this point? I'm determined to move forward. I'll call and cancel the cards later. I will get another license. At least it wasn't my whole wallet - I'd only put my driver's license and one ATM and credit card in a separate wallet anticipating being out (which, apparently, is a good practice). I will be zen.

I'm meant to meet my friends on the corner of First and Washington. I'm on Third. No problem. But it takes me a while to plow through masses of drunken idiots. But I've made it to First. The phone rings. They're on Third. You've got to be kidding me. At this point I'm trying so hard to think zen that my head is threatening to pop off cartoon-style. I've completely shut out my screaming intuition that's telling me not to be there. It was time to listen. I call my friends to say I'm going home. And that's what I did. $25 to park for 20 minutes and I'm returning home without my wallet. Awesome.

I drove an hour home and returned to find the dog in good spirits. I plopped myself down on the couch to relax, and then I remembered that I there was another New Jersey Young Professionals (NJYP) event that night that I had declined since I was meant to be in Hoboken. There was meant to be drinking and dancing, so right up my alley. And this is the same organization that held the Single Mingle event I'd been to and really enjoyed. I'd even met a fun guy and we'd followed it up with a great date earlier in the week.

So things were looking up! I had a bit of time to relax, cleaned myself up, and grabbed my passport for ID purposes. Where everything about Hoboken had felt wrong, this felt exactly right. I'd texted the guy I'd met at the last event to find out who might be going. I'd been under the impression he wasn't going to be there. But on the drive up I learned I'd been wrong. Even better! I'd get to catch up with him and we'd have a chance to hit the dance floor again. And it was a lot of fun. The people were great...and the first kiss at the end of the evening was even better. Hoboken can kiss my ass.

Truth be told, I hadn't planned on blogging about all of this. It seemed like just a silly weekend story without much of a point. But the more I thought about it, the more there was a point. I had been so determined to make the day a good one that I'd completely missed out listening to the inner voice that was telling me not to go. I'm not necessarily implying the universe was trying to get me to the NJYP event, but there was definately a part of me that just didn't want to go. And I forced it. And kept forcing it. My whole life I've felt like I had to make lemonade. Keep my chin up. Just keep moving forward. Sometimes I'm so determined to make lemonade that I'm oblivious to the fact that I'm totally out of lemons and only have prunes left in the cupboard. The key is listening to myself; to my intuition. Stopping to assess whether or not I have lemons. Stop to figure out what it is that I want to do, rather than plunging forward because I think I have to.

But all of that is not what actually convinced me to blog about it. What really pushed me to blog about this was Adam Soles. For two days I'd decided not to go to the DMV to get my license. I knew I needed to do it, but for whatever reason I decided it could wait until tomorrow. Perhaps I was listening to my intuition. And, wouldn't you know it, today a very nice UPS man handed me a package from Adam. A man I don't know and have never met. Inside was my wallet; complete with my driver's license, credit cards, and cash. Adam had even taken the time to write a nice note about how he had found it on the street and kept an eye out for me Saturday. Oh, and he really hoped I still managed to have a good time.

I mean, really? I left him a voicemail and a nice email (Subject: I think I love you), and committed to paying it forward. He wrote back saying he was happy to help and thought the world could really use a little more paying it forward. And threw in a little "Have a great life, Jo!". So now that Adam and I agree on this whole pay it forward thing, I'm asking you to help us out. I'm committing to doing something nice and random for a stranger in the coming week. Can you help me and do the same? Because Adam Soles is my hero, and we should all be a little like him. Hasta, sabbaticaljo